


The Night is Sweet Vanilla, Cherry Red

by MalevolentMagpie



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bisexual Shiro (Voltron), Clothes Ripping, F/F, Fem Keith, Fem Shiro, FemsheithExchange2020, First Time, Gay Bar, Hook-Up, Lipstick & Lip Gloss, Nightclub, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Public Sex, SHEITH - Freeform, Sexual Identity, Size Difference, Unsafe Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Wall Sex, coming to terms with, convenient architecture, femsheith, lesbian keith, lipstick smearing, maybe a smidgen of plot, that should also be a tag, that should be a tag, thigh riding, use dental dams kids!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:41:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26576185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MalevolentMagpie/pseuds/MalevolentMagpie
Summary: Galaxy Garrison Officer Shirogane, fresh off a breakup with her longtime boyfriend Adam, decides this is the perfect time to go to a queer club for the first time. There she meets a fiery hothead for the first time, and the first times continue...2020 FemSheith Exchange, forShiverslightly.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 75
Collections: Femsheith Exchange 2020





	The Night is Sweet Vanilla, Cherry Red

**Author's Note:**

> For the 2020 FemSheith Exchange, fulfilling a request for [Shiverslightly](/users/shiverslightly/): “Nightclub AU - Shiro, who has only recently realized she's bisexual, is fresh off a hetero break up and goes to her first queer club. Meets Keith and smutty first time with a woman happens.” 
> 
> ***Edit that I can't believe I almost forgot, omg:   
> A _HUGE_ shout-out and thank you to my beta reader, [Velika](https://twitter.com/UnleashedVelika), for sitting down with me and thoroughly helping me work out the logistics of the smut that y'all liked so much. She seriously was so careful and thorough, and I am beyond grateful. THANK YOUUUU!***
> 
> I know this is going to sound like a joke, but: there actually, legitimately is a female variant of Keith’s name that is actually used, and it IS “Keitha.” Both names are of Gaelic origin. 
> 
> If you are sensitive to genital terminology, please see End Notes for a list of terms used in this fic.

Shiro had no illusions as to how others saw her at the Garrison: capable, strong, calm, a leader. She had shot through the ranks and made Officer faster than anyone at the institution even imagined possible. It had taken  _ years  _ for anyone to beat even a single one of her flight simulator records (though eventually she heard through the grapevine that some young prodigy finally bumped her to second place). She was polite, principled, disciplined. Respectful towards COs, supportive towards subordinates, and friendly to all. Matt had recently said that her entire identity could be summed up as, “someone who has her shit together.”

“Certainly don’t have my shit together  _ now, _ do I, Matt?” she drunkenly asked the tv, just a tad louder than intended. 

It continued to play the fourth consecutive episode of  _ The Bachelor _ in response.

She sniffed and stuffed another handful of cheetos in her mouth, imagining with bitter sadism that one was sentient and in love and she was mercifully reuniting it with his soulmate in her stomach. 

_ The Bachelor _ had been their “thing.” Every Friday night, she and Adam would cuddle up together on the couch and try and guess who would get eliminated and who would say some outrageous come-on. True to her perfect image, Shiro’s predictions were always spot on. 

“Not that it helped me predict ‘Steve from Engineering,’” she slurred bitterly once more at the imaginary Matt, taking another swig from the bottle sandwiched between her thighs. It tasted like sour apples and mixed with the cheeto cheese dust in a way that made her want to gag. In other words, it was perfect for the occasion.

On the couch cushion beside her, a cheery beep informed her that the  _ actual  _ Matt was sending even more texts. 

“Don’t wanna talk to you,” she mumbled at her innocent tv monitor. The imaginary Matt frowned questioningly, and she narrowed her eyes at him.  _ First, for assuring me the Steve thing was probably all in my head.  _ And secondly for the shit-togetherness comment. Even her best friend saw in her nothing more than the perfect soldier. The Garrison’s Golden Girl. 

Shiro wasn’t perfect. There were a great many things about her that weren’t perfect, as her father had not ceased pointing out since she came out to her family some months ago. No amount of professional accolades or perfect behavior would ever again be enough for them, and in her darkest moments she wondered if that was why it never seemed to be enough for  _ her _ either.

The phone started ringing. With a heavy sigh, she finally wiped her cheeto fingers on her ratty t-shirt and swiped to answer.

“What.”

“Eyy! Triple G! How’s my best girl?”

“Uh-” 

But before she could answer, Matt was chugging ahead at full steam. “I bet you’re already getting wasted on the couch and eating your grief away one armful of cheetos at a time.”

She looked down at the family-size bag propped up against the armrest and slowly said, “No….”

“Still hung up on that Adam and Steve thing?”

“It was less than a  _ week _ ago-”

“Dude, you gotta let it go. They’re gonna get more than their fair share of justice from the low-hanging gay jokes  _ alone _ . You need to go out. You need to- You need to go clubbing or something. Shake that intimidatingly muscular ass. Wear something sleeveless and flash those guns. Pick up some sleazy guy or gal and have safe but decidedly  _ not-sane _ sex.”

Shiro groaned. “Matt, when in my life have you ever known me to go clubbing? Or have a one-night stand, for that matter?”

“Exactly! That’s  _ exactly  _ why! Man, take it from someone who’s been dumped a lot. And I do mean, a  _ lot _ . The best way to get over somebody is to get  _ under  _ somebody else. Do something different! Wild! Put yourself out there! At the very least, your goody-goody ass will be shaking so badly from the anxiety that it’ll distract you from thinking about your ex and his smokin’ new flame.”

“Your compassion and empathy are overwhelming, Best Friend,” she deadpanned.

“I know. Hey listen, I gotta go ‘cause this chick’s been waiting on me to put this condom on for the past 15 minutes and I’m not sure how much longer she’s gonna stick ar-” More faintly, Shiro heard him say, “Oh hey no, come on sweet thing! I was only joking, come over here.” Then louder, “Shiro I gotta go. But get laid, okay? That’s an order!”

“You’re not my commanding officer!” she complained back into the receiver, only to see that the call was already disconnected. “Why am I even friends with you, jackass?” she muttered with feigned disgust, but she didn’t put the phone down. Instead, she thoughtfully turned it over and over in her hand, fixating on the tiny rainbow flag sticker she had recently built up the courage to stick on her case with trembling fingers. 

The “Are you still there?” message that flashed onto the tv screen and the resulting silence in the room seemed to look down on her in judgment: on her cheeto-stained shirt, her bottle of gross, cheap liquor, her self-pity. Her Friday night, in a nutshell. 

Before giving herself the chance to fully think about what she was doing, she was freshly showered and out the door in her tightest, thinnest white tank top and the jeans that Matt had once crassly assured her paid her “juicy” thighs “the attention they deserved.” Seriously, why  _ was _ she friends with that jackass?

Twenty minutes later, she sat dawdling on her cruiser outside the only gay club within riding distance of the Garrison, silently commanding herself to pussy up and get in there. 

She could do this, she told herself. It was time. She’d already spent too long being clueless to, and then trying to ignore, who she really was. Too long trying to please her family, trying to hide from her coworkers. And this was the perfect time, now that Adam was… Anyway, she deserved this. She’d had a hard week (to say the least), and she deserved this. 

Her internal monologue got her as far as the front door when she saw a flash of tight, tight red on long, long legs walk in through the doors before her. She immediately turned around. She couldn’t do this. She’d never allowed herself to so much as  _ flirt _ with a woman before. Until roughly a year ago, she hadn’t even realized that it was something she  _ wanted.  _ She was fairly certain that as soon as a gorgeous girl like that came up to her, her brain would vacate the building and that would be it for any chance of speaking like a normal human being, much less taking anyone home. 

Unfortunately for her, the bouncer had already seen her. 

“You comin’ in or what? I ain’t got all night, hun,” they grunted, and Shiro was immediately too flustered and embarrassed to do anything other than mechanically hand over her ID and shuffle inside. 

It was loud, it was dark, the air was warm and moist and stuffy. She wasn’t sure what else she had been expecting from what was, at the end of the day, still a club, but other than the sporadic splash of rainbow decorations and the music selection it wasn’t much different from the few non-gay clubs she had visited in the past. Well, that and the patrons. 

On the dance floor, men dressed in various levels of coverage gyrated and ground against each other. A handful of women gathered here and there, some on the dance floor, some huddled in dark corners or leaning against the bar. 

Shiro forced herself to stiffly walk further in, and tried her damndest to not look as much like a newborn fawn as she was currently feeling. With all the nonchalance she could muster, she sidled up to a freshly-vacated bar stool and signaled the bartender when she caught his eye. The familiar routine of ordering a drink slowly calmed her nerves enough to allow her to really take in her surroundings. 

It was terrifying, yes, but it was also thrilling. And more than that, it was… a relief, to see all these men and women around her, carefree and joyful, letting loose in a place where they felt safe to be themselves. Their happy faces made Shiro feel like maybe she could allow herself to be her true self too, for once. No judgmental parents. No professional image to carefully manicure lest she risk the attention of some bigoted superior. Just Shiro. And if she wanted to hit on a cute girl, she could and she would and no one would stop her.

She didn’t, though. She ordered another drink.

For as much freedom as she felt, there was also a whole new load of insecurities. What did women like? Did she pass muster? She had only ever been with men before -few, at that- and on that front she knew she had never fit the ideal. Too tall, too scarred, too muscular. Her physique was a necessity of her military training regimen, but even putting career factors aside, she had never been the cute, petite fairy that it sometimes seemed all men wanted.

She self-consciously reached a hand up to her face, fingers absent-mindedly tracing over the stark, ruddy scar that cut across the bridge of her nose (an old combat injury) then sliding up to comb nervously through her short hair, through the prematurely white shock of hair that was just a tad too long to be regulation -the one “feminine” luxury she allowed herself in order to stay afloat in a sea of testosterone. Something private she could hold onto to stay true to who she was.

Her thoughts swirled darkly as she sank into her third drink.

Even after the alcohol had loosened up her tense shoulders, it felt inexplicably as if all eyes in the club were on her, though a moment’s observation made it clear they were not. None but one pair, dark and drilling into Shiro’s own when she met their gaze. Their owner stood leaning languidly against the nearby wall, a short, lean woman with long black hair that was pulled up into a high ponytail save for the unruly bangs that nearly covered her eyes, who was wearing a tight, short, red dress that Shiro imagined couldn’t be at all comfortable. 

Shiro would almost categorize her as delicate, were it not for the sharp, predatory edge to her body: thin, but toned. Relaxed, but wary. She was  _ beautiful. _ The girl of Shiro’s dreams, even. The kind of girl that Shiro could never in a million years gather the courage to approach in real life. 

Almost as if on cue, the woman in red sauntered towards the bar. Shiro froze, then looked behind her - only a male couple deep in private conversation sat nearby. She turned back and locked eyes with the woman, trying desperately not to let her eyes wander down to the hypnotic way her hips swayed ever so slightly to and fro. 

“First time?” said the stranger as she leaned into Shiro’s space, against the bartop. 

The line was cliche enough that it might have made Shiro laugh, were it not for the utter terror that was seizing every single one of her muscles. 

“I didn’t realize I was being so obvious,” Shiro muttered, somewhat shamefaced.

“Nothing wrong with that,” the gorgeous stranger assured her with a kind smile, then extended her hand. “Keitha. Friends call me Keith. If you call me Kitty, I swear to god I will claw your eyes out.”

“That’s certainly not cat-like at all,” Shiro grinned, taking her hand. It was dwarfed by her own palm, and so, so soft. “Takako Shirogane - Shiro, for short.”

“Shiro,” Keith repeated, as if trying the name on her tongue. Her gaze wandered from the probably-stupid expression Shiro was wearing, down along Shiro’s arm, lingering on where Shiro still hadn’t dropped the handshake. 

Shiro immediately retracted her hand. “So uh… Do you… come here often?” She immediately physically cringed. As expected, her brain had gone on strike and was determined to speak solely in romcom dialogue. 

Keith looked like she knew what Shiro was thinking, but was gracious enough not to comment on it. “Only when I’m in the mood to pick up a mountain of muscles with double Ds.” 

Shiro flushed so hard that she felt the wave of heat wash over her cheeks. 

Keith smoothly ignored Shiro’s startled stammering and slid a hand over her thick forearm, deep indigo eyes searching Shiro’s own as if checking that the contact was acceptable. No longer trusting her brain or her tongue, Shiro desperately willed her eyes to answer a resounding, ‘ _ yes.’ _ Keith’s emboldened fingers roved upward, her cherry-red nails tracing the defined lines around Shiro’s bicep, then trailing further up to her broad shoulders. Shiro was helpless under the tender touch that was light as a whisper but left a trail of fire in its wake. She imagined those nails but long and sharp, raking painful lines across her back as Keith writhed beneath her on Shiro’s bed, her expression twisted with pleasure. Those would be scars she would gladly wear with pride. Shiro stared, and ended up fixating on the plush jut of Keith’s lower lip, painted sparkly pink with artful precision. Shiro wanted to lick every piece of glitter off of it, then roll it gently in her teeth until Keith moaned. 

With admirable restraint, Shiro tore herself from her thoughts and offered to get Keith a drink. They chatted over their drinks about random topics, though nothing too personal as there was only so deep a discussion one could have in the dark beneath blaring bass. Keith was a good conversationalist; even the most superficial of topics she approached sincerely and thoughtfully, a wonderful, open, passionate honesty to her every feeling and opinion. As they spoke, Keith’s fingers wandered endlessly: over the counter, across Shiro’s palm, up her thigh. It was distracting, and working Shiro up more and more by the minute.

After a comfortable pause and an assessing look, Keith spoke again, and Shiro watched as the club lights danced along her twinkling lips. “You know, this club has a very unique layout.”

Shiro nodded dumbly, perfectly content to listen to Keith speak about architecture if it meant she had a good excuse to keep memorizing the soft curves of her face.

“It used to be an artist’s exhibition space. That’s why the current owners bought it. Lots of… hidden corners tucked away, at weird angles…” Keith’s gaze flicked down to Shiro’s lips. “In the mood for a tour?”

Keith didn’t wait for a response. She wrapped one small hand around Shiro’s wrist in a surprisingly firm grip and led Shiro straight across the dance floor, through the writhing masses. Either Keith had a reputation in this place, or everyone else felt -as Shiro did- the fierce, almost intimidating aura that Keith managed to radiate from all 5 feet of her. The crowd parted before her, resuming their revelry in her wake. Shiro tried not to think about how many times they might have witnessed Keith pull someone away like this.

They rounded a corner behind the DJ dais, and suddenly found themselves in a strange little alcove-like space. The shadows cast by the club lights naturally drowned the corner in shadows, creating the illusion of a regular corner instead of the bend and the nook that there actually were. 

With the same deceptive strength, Keith crowded Shiro up against the wall and shot her a heated gaze. Her hands were firmly planted on Shiro’s abs, and Shiro wished they would go everywhere  _ else _ , too. 

“I get the feeling you haven’t done this a whole lot before.”

Shiro shook her head nervously. Keith nodded in confirmation. Her cavalier confidence was incredibly calming; Shiro felt like she could trust Keith with anything. She would probably make a great sergeant.

“That’s okay. I’ll take care of you, baby. Just tell me what you want.”

Shiro averted her eyes. “I don’t really… know. I’ve only ever- I mean, not with girls before…”

Keith raised her eyebrows ever so slightly, but she broke into a small grin. “I see… Alright then, how about I take the lead, and you just tell me if you feel uncomfortable or wanna stop for any reason.” 

Shiro barely suppressed a sigh of relief. Keith really was an angel. An angel with a wicked, wicked tongue which had gone right to work licking a broad stripe up Shiro’s neck. An even-less-angelic hand slid up ( _ finally! _ ) along the thin fabric of Shiro’s top to possessively cup a breast. Keith’s slender hand was definitely too tiny to hold all of Shiro and that thought sparked something along Shiro’s spine. She shuddered.

“There we go, just relax,” Keith muttered into the skin beneath her clavicle, then lined her body up against Shiro. Shiro’s hands rose to bracket her waist. She was too short to comfortably reach Shiro’s lips, so Shiro bent her head and finally allowed herself to sink into a kiss every bit as velvet-soft and blissful as she had imagined. Keith’s lipstick tasted like French vanilla, and her mouth tasted like heavenly sin. Then Shiro shifted forward the thigh that was trapped between Keith’s legs and everything else faded away with the absolutely indecent moan Keith let out. There was no club. There was no music. There was only Keith’s ragged breathing and the burning pressure against Shiro’s thigh as Keith clamped her legs together and rocked her pelvis, grinding down dirtily, using Shiro’s battle-honed body for nothing but her own selfish pleasure. 

Shiro was enraptured. 

“Fuck yes, Keith, just like that. Just like that baby, take it. Take what you need. God, you’re so gorgeous, just look at you,” she babbled nonsensically into Keith’s mouth, which hung slightly open as she lost herself in senseless pleasure. Shiro licked once more along her Cupid’s bow, leaving a trail of open kisses along the side of her cheek and along her fine, tapered jaw. It smeared the glittery lipstick outwards, and some animalistic, jealous part of Shiro preened in satisfaction at the thought that by the time Keith walked away, everyone would know what they’d been doing. 

She pressed her thigh forward again and Keith keened. 

“Can I?” she gasped, fingers poised against the button of Shiro’s jeans. As if it was even a question. 

“Yeah, yes, anything, go ahead.”

Keith made quick work of the fly, but took her time sliding her hand down. The angle was a little awkward with their height difference, but somehow she made it work and slipped gracefully beneath Shiro’s underwear until she was gently cupping her mound. Shiro rolled her body, but Keith didn’t move her hand. She merely kept it still, exerting the smallest amount of pressure evenly against Shiro while she herself kept riding Shiro’s thick thigh. 

“Keith what are you doing, you’re gonna drive me crazy.”

Keith only smirked.

She started inching the hand beneath Shiro’s panties forward, gently caressing Shiro’s sensitive lips and every so often strategically trailing one slender finger along the inside of Shiro’s thigh, which never failed to take Shiro’s breath away. Keith’s other hand, in the meantime, hitched up Shiro’s tank top. In an uncharacteristically bold move, Shiro had foregone her bra, and under Keith’s ministrations her nipples now tented the nearly-translucent fabric. Keith placed her hot mouth on a nipple, over the cloth. 

“Keith!” Shiro gasped. The scratch of the cloth and the heat of Keith’s mouth was almost overwhelming on the sensitive skin. 

The scoundrel popped off of the nipple, lips shiny with spit and quirked in an indolent grin. The thin white top was now  _ actually _ translucent, wet and cold in the club’s conditioned air. Shiro hissed at the sensation. She barely had time to register Keith’s mouth moving onto her other nipple before Keith’s fingers were dipping into her, lightly testing the wetness beneath her underwear. Keith made a noise of approval. 

“I’ve barely touched you, and look how wet you already are,” she crooned. “Do you want me that badly?” The playful light in her eyes made it seem like a joke, but Shiro was too far gone to answer with anything but the truth. 

“Yes,” she whispered with feeling. “Keith, you’re- god, you’re amazing.”

Maybe it was a little too honest for what was probably, to Keith, a drunken fumble against a club wall. Regardless, Keith didn’t seem to mind. Her eyes widened slightly, then softened. 

“You too, Shiro. You’re the hottest person I’ve ever laid eyes on, and sweet to boot... I kind of don’t wanna have this be it.” 

And even as she waxed romantic, her fingers gently, smoothly sunk into Shiro: one, then two, then, finding no resistance with as much lubrication as Shiro was releasing, three, rocking in deep and low up to the last knuckle. Shiro shook beneath Keith’s small body. It was definitely not the same as it had been with Adam, but it was no less amazing. Maybe even more so, she thought as Keith slid her skilled fingers back out and up to circle her clitoris. Around they went, and around, driving Shiro to distraction, and just when she thought she couldn’t take anymore, Keith went back to dip her fingers in Shiro, gather more slick, and return to slide smoothly against Shiro’s clit again.

“Fuck, Keith, I-! I can’t, it’s too much!”

Something in her face must have shown the kind of ‘too much’ she meant, though, because after a careful look Keith only smiled and kept at it with admirable consistency until Shiro felt the familiar warmth begin to wash over her. Electricity sparkled along every extremity, leaving her wired and enervated, every muscle in her body vibrating with the idea of Keith. Keith’s soft lips, Keith’s long legs, Keith’s sharp smile and filthy mouth. Keith didn’t let up in her pace, grinding her hand against Shiro’s clit and dragging out her orgasm. 

When she came back to her senses, Shiro realized Keith was once again grinding down against her thigh. With a growl, she flipped them around, hiking Keith up to her waist. Keith immediately wrapped her legs around and began kissing Shiro desperately. (There had definitely been the distinct sound of something tearing, probably Keith’s too-tight dress, but Shiro’s hurried, “Sorry, sorry” was immediately silenced by Keith’s distracted, “I don’t care, I don’t care.”)

Keith licked deep into Shiro’s mouth, claiming it for her own, but Shiro forced herself to focus on the mission objective. She ran one rough hand down to cup Keith’s ass, feeling for where the dress had definitely ripped and was now pooled just above Keith’s waist, leaving her entirely exposed save for a pair of silky underwear that were absolutely soaked. Shiro groaned. She pushed the flimsy fabric aside with one finger and ran another through the slick lips. Keith’s lips. Fuck, Shiro was  _ definitely _ committing that to memory for a later night.

With only a devious grin for warning, she slid her arms under Keith’s slender thighs and with nary a sweat lifted her up to her shoulders - Keith was lighter than what Shiro usually had to bench. 

Keith gasped. “Ohhh  _ fuuuck.” _

Her thighs were resting on Shiro’s shoulders now, ass firmly held up by Shiro’s hands with ease, which put Shiro’s face precisely where she wanted it to be. She ran her tongue between Keith’s folds, savoring the tart, metallic flavor of Keith. It was Keith, so it was perfect. Above her, Keith lamely attempted to mute the sounds she was making by biting down on her fist. Shiro wished she could hear each and every one, but they were  _ definitely  _ on dangerous ground now, doing this in the open. Leaning casually against a thigh and slipping a hand down some pants were one thing; what they were doing now blew plausible deniability out of the water. All that stood between them and a charge of indecent exposure were some strategically-angled club lights and the hope and prayer that no one who was as intimately familiar with the club layout as Keith was had a similar idea to come over here.

One of Keith’s inner lips was longer than the other, and Shiro took great pleasure sucking it into her mouth and feeling every bump and wrinkle on her tongue. She had no idea what she was doing, and some small part in the back of her mind was sober enough to worry that her inexperience would be frustrating for Keith, but based on the little gasps she kept hearing, Keith seemed like she was generally enjoying herself, so Shiro concentrated on simply exploring every inch of Keith and doing what she knew felt good on her own body.

She kept fucking Keith with her tongue and lapping at Keith’s entrance until she could no longer tell what was Keith’s slick and what was her own saliva, until Keith’s quivering thighs squeezed tight around Shiro’s thick neck seemingly without her realizing. Then, lightheaded and blissfully lost in the feel, scent, and taste of Keith, Shiro suddenly moved and closed her lips around Keith’s mound, gently but firmly sucking and swirling around Keith’s little clit until Keith spasmed against her. Shiro looked up, still sucking, watching as Keith threw her head back against the wall and muffled a scream by biting down hard on her own forearm. Her mouth slid away from Keith with a final lick, even as Keith continued to shake in her arms. Then she smoothly lowered her from her perch on Shiro’s shoulders.

Keith groaned. She looked fucked out and completely out of it while Shiro tidily pulled her tattered dress back down. It was an exercise in futility trying to get the slight thing to cover Keith again, but Shiro’s gentlemanly impulses wouldn’t let her stop fussing until Keith finally stilled her hands by placing them back on Keith’s hips. 

“Wow,” said Keith. 

“Yeah,” sighed Shiro. 

“You two done?” said the DJ. 

Shiro jumped. “Fuck!” 

Standing beside them was a middle-aged woman with a side shave and purple hair, looking mildly bemused at Shiro’s horrified expression.

“H- h- how long have you been there?!” Shiro stammered.

The DJ waved her hand dismissively. “Relax, I didn’t see anything X-rated. Earlier, I noticed you two stealing away here and waited for a while, then braved an introduction when I neared the corner and didn’t hear any incriminating noises.”

Shiro’s face had lost all color. She felt acutely aware of her still-wet see-through tank top, her unzipped jeans, her wet chin, and her disheveled bangs where Keith had gripped tight in the throes of her climax. She probably still had Keith’s pink lipstick smeared across her cheek. 

_ “But why?” _ said Shiro finally. Beside her, Keith watched the proceedings with an impassive face.

The DJ pointed behind the two women, and Shiro turned to see a black duffel bag propped up against the wall on their other side. She hadn’t noticed it when Keith had first pulled her into this corner, but then again it was very dark and Shiro hadn’t been of a mind to notice much of anything that wasn’t attached to the saucy minx in her arms.

“That’s my shit,” said the DJ helpfully.

Shiro was still stuttering out some sort of embarrassed apology when Keith finally pulled her away. She tried to stick as close as possible to Keith while they made their way back through the club, so that no one would see the giant rip in Keith’s dress that exposed an entire asscheek with every step Keith took. When they reached the front doors, Shiro wrapped her leather riding jacket around Keith’s tiny shoulders. It was large enough on the small woman to at least cover her ass, and had the added benefits of keeping Keith warm in the chill night air as well as making her look even more tiny and adorable. Fleeting domestic thoughts of waking up to Keith wearing nothing but Shiro’s huge shirt were chased away when Keith squared up and pinned Shiro with a look. 

“I don’t want this to be it,” she repeated, fierce gaze locking Shiro in place where they stood outside the club.

“What?”

“I don’t want this to be some quick hook-up in the middle of a dirty club, and for us to never see each other again. No offense, but you look like the type to ball out of coming back to a gay club for  _ months _ and there’s no way I’m willing to go that long without seeing you again.”

Something inside Shiro melted at the romantic sentiment, despite the decidedly un-romantic way Keith expressed it. Keith said it like she was challenging Shiro to a duel and would consider declination to be downright dishonorable. Shiro could only nod helplessly under Keith’s fiery determination, she herself being all too willing to see Keith every day for the rest of her  _ life _ if it was possible. It was then that she realized that she might already be too deep, and loving it.

“So, I’m giving you my number. If you don’t feel the same, just throw it away. If you do… I’ll wait for your text.” 

Shiro texted back her own contact info that very moment.

Keith wouldn’t let Shiro give her a ride (which Shiro respected, assuming Keith didn’t want to let a near-stranger know where she lived), but she did let Shiro call her a taxi. By the time Shiro made it back to her own quarters at the Galaxy Garrison, she had a permanent grin on her face. That night she dreamt of long legs lovingly squeezing her and an angelic voice moaning sweetly above her.

~~~

Shiro woke in the morning to a different world. Everything was technicolor, everything was bright. She had barely gotten five hours of sleep, but she felt more energetic than she had in months. No fewer than four people asked her if she had recently received good news of some sort, to which Shiro replied with the same dopey grin that no, it was merely a good morning. They all stared back like they thought she was touched in the head.

Every few hours she checked her phone and confirmed that she hadn’t received any texts, each time reminding herself that Keith was likely at work and wouldn’t be able to text until the evening. She checked her phone anyway. She was in the middle of checking yet again when she heard Iverson’s voice boom from down the hall.

“Shirogane! There you are!”

He motioned to her and she followed him immediately to the cadet training wing. 

“Wipe that stupid grin off your face, Shirogane.”

“Sir? Where are we going?”

“I’d like to introduce you to the cadet I was telling you about a while back, the one that beat all your simulator records within months of graduating to sim access.”

“I remember. His name was ‘Kogane’ or something, right?”

“That’s the one.  _ Her _ class is getting ready to advance to the Year 3 Mentor Program, and I want her being taught by the Garrison’s best. I know we usually let the tiered lottery choose the mentor-telemachus pairs, but this is a special exception. She’s got real talent - reminds us a lot of  _ you  _ a few years ago. So I’m personally assigning you to her. I want you to teach her, train her, let her shadow you everywhere, hell I want you two eating all three meals together - whatever it takes to turn her into the best damn pilot this facility’s ever produced.”

Iverson opened the door to one of the classrooms, empty now in the late afternoon.

“Yes, sir!” Shiro was saying as she stepped into the room. “I’m really looking forward to working with such a promisi-” She stared straight ahead and almost swallowed her tongue. 

There, standing in the empty classroom in the orange cadet’s uniform and a shocked expression to match Shiro’s own, stood a familiar dark-haired girl with indigo eyes and sinful lips.

“Shit.”

And that was how Shiro met the new prodigy of the Galaxy Garrison.

**Author's Note:**

> The following terms are used for female genitalia: mound, lips, inner lips, clitoris, clit, ass, folds, lubrication, slick, entrance. Genital-related phrases that are also included: to “pussy up” and to “ball out.”


End file.
